NationStates Jolt Archive

December 25th. For most of the world, it was a universal day off. A day of celebration and joy and relaxation. Children around the world awoke to find gifts left by Santa, and teenagers and young adults for one day again believed that there was a Santa. A day of rest, of good food, good fun, and family.

Except for the 385th Air Interception Squadron. The 'Origins', just one of the many fighter groups in the Imitoran Naval Air Force. Today, the 4 pilots of the 385th sat in a ready room. They had the job of gaurding Imitora whenever the so called 'power' was off. Whenever teh full regular military wasn't on alert, at least one squadron ran emergency deployment. On this Christmas, the 385th had picked the short straw. So to speak. It wasn't coincedencial that all four pilots were single, and non had any family to go to for Christmas. Voulenteer, in this case, was a nice way of saying they just happened to fit the bill.

The 385th was nothing special in the INAF. Hell, while the rest of the INAF had at least gotten F-82C Angles, and one or two of the lucky ones had pulled F/A-8c Archangels, the 385th was on schedule to be placed as a reserve unit, and still flew the older F/A-18I Yellow Jackets. Most nations would consider the Yellow Jacket a futuristic look at what could be done. But in Imitora, the Yellow Jackets were just a symbol of a bygone era, back in teh days when the very first Northampton was just about ready to come off the production line, and stealth was flying low and slow to avoid radar coverage. Dont even get started on GhostSkin.

On this day, squadron commander Captain Christin Marie 'Fireball' Chaffin, sat on a couch, looking out a window at the flight line. The four F/A-18Is stood, lined up, cockpits open, and mounts taken by air to air missiles. Her's sat on the extreeme left of the four, a Christmas wreath hanging of the nose. She sighed, realising this low was what her carreer had come to. She had once been the top pilot in the INAF, the lead in a crack squadron, the 18th Tactical Air Combat Squadron, also known as 'The Three Libras'. She had more kills under her belt than most squadrons had combined. But not anymore. And to top it all off, she was the wife of the Crowned King of Iansisle. But she let her hormones get in the way, and ruined that, and then, after an incident involving Adejaani and an assasin, she was put on the back burner, resigned to leading a 'back water' unit that, for 22 years running, had pulled Christmas Watch. Karma really was a bitch.

As she stared out the window, she saw a green BMW Z4 convertable pull up, and a younger man step out. Lt. Chris 'Mongoose' Burns. Her wingman, and back in the Three Libras, partner in crime. He walked into the ready room, and plopped down on a recliner across from Christin. "Merry Christmas Fireball," he said, letting his head fall back.

"You to Mongoose. Nice car, Christmas gift?"

"Yeah, I decided to go all out this year, and I needed a new set of wheels." She chuckled at his joke, and sighed.

She was about to speak when the one sound she never expected to hear rang out. The air raid warning klaxon. She all but fell out of her counch, and jumped up, grabbing her helmet sitting on the table. Chris was close behind. Seconds later they were on the runway. Lt. Jason 'Snafu' Derricks and Lt. Craig 'Bunny Rabbit' Howards were already getting into their fighters.

It took three minutes for Christin and Chris to get into place, their fighters roaring to life as they taxied down the runway. "Mustang this is Origin 1, one runway 22L, request permision to take off to intercept."

"Origin 1, Mustang. You are clear on two two el for TOGA, come to angels 12, heading two two zero for intercept, over."

"Rodger, Orgin 1 is burn." The F/A-18I started its roll, slow at first, but soon the fighter rocketed into the air, its twin afterburning engines screaming as the fighter climbed to 12,000 feet, the three others close behind.

The squadron manuvered its way behind the incomming bogeys, a set of unidentified incomming fighters. They slid into a loose echlon, and began radar sweeps of the aircraft. "Unidentified aircraft, this is Capt. Christin Chaffin of the Imitora Naval Air Force, please state your purpose for entering Imitoran Air Space."

The call, as did several more, went unanswered. Chaffin wasn't feeling to safe with this, and checked her GPS system. 15 miles to feet dry. At their speed, this would be three minutes. She was about to radio for permision to fire a warning shot, when it happened. "Shit, he's breaking," one of the pilots called out. It was Bunny Rabbit. She looked out as one of the unidentified aircraft slow broke away.

"Rabbit, don't fi..." but it was too late. The AAm was already off the rail, on its way towards the engine of the bogey. The slim missile slid up the tail pipe almost perfectly, and exploded inside the air frame. The shockwave ripped out from the aircraft, cutting it almost perfectly in half. Christin prayed to God to see a parachute, but it never came. By now, it was to late.

She broke hard. "Origin 1 to Origin group, move defensive and open fire, protect yourself, this is a hot situation." She cut the fighter to the left hard, then came nose up, skimming right above the suface of teh water. She banked hard, bring the nose up again, and rolling into a tight Immelman. This put her head on with one of the bogeys, and here, it was all instinct. "Fireball, Fox 2." The radar guided missile lept off the rail, slamming into the unidentified fighter.

Another one was forced into the ocean as Mongoose let loose with his 20mm cannon, the stream of shells ripping into the bogey's wing. The third one banked hard, right into another missle fired by Christin. She rolled outside, then dropped into a split-s putting her right on the tail of the fourth fighter. She squeezed the trigger, and sprayed into the fighters engine, exploding it. Again, no parachute.

It seemed like 40 minutes, but in reality, the dog fight had taken no more than 25 seconds. She pulled her oxygen max off, and flipped up the helmet's black visor. "Jesus Christ what the f*ck just happend?" she shouted into the mic. Before she could get a response, a rough voice came in over the radio.

"Origin 1, this is Mustang 6," the callsign for the base Commander, "I want your ass and your entire squadron's ass down here NOW!" Christin sighed. She had barely managed to salvage her carrer, and now this happend.

OOC: What I need is another country to be the home country for the fighters that just got shot down. What I'd like to do is RP a real international incident. I'd like to stay away from a war, looking more towards having one nation demand an appology, reperations, and tries to investigate teh incident of why their fighters (who had a bad radio or bum GPS or something) got blasted out of the skies for no purpose. Meanwhile, I'll be denying it, saying that it wasn't a mistake, that your fighters were moving offensively, while conducting my own investigation. Maybe, the other nation will call for an internation trial, try to kidnap some of the pilots so they can question them, stuff like that. I hope this works out, and whoever replies first gets to be the home nation of the other fighters. However, any nation that wants to get involved for other reasons, no matter what, are free to do so.

OOC:I'd enjoy being the home nation of the fighters.

IC:
Aboard the ships of the 1st MEU, the commodore in command of the unit stared at the RADAR screen. He watched in horror as first one, then two, three, then finally four of the Harriers he had deployed as the opposition force for an exercise involving his air groups disappeared off of his radar screen.

He had frantically tried to contact them as the unidentified bogies appeared behind them. Apparently, one of the missiles had taken his Harriers by surprise. The commodore ran a hand through his hair and looked at the map again. He cursed as the realized that they may have strayed too close to Imtorian waters.

The commodore turned to the communications officer. “Get Naval Command on the line,” he ordered. I screwed up and four people died.

Thaler City, P3X1299
It was dark, in Thaler City, and the messenger had gotten caught in some severe traffic, and very nearly caught up in a riot by some Christmas revelers. He at last made it to the residence of Robert MacKenzy, P3X1299’s Secretary of Defense. He was halted at the gate of Mackenzie’s compound by a pair of military guards who demanded to see is identification. He presented it and the waved him through. At the door of the mansion, he was halted again. He presented his identification, and the guards pressed his forefinger to an optical scanner. After that, they waved him through again.

He walked into the house and found MacKenzy waiting for him. The courier handed the Secretary of Defense the report from Naval Command. Apparently, four Harriers had been jumped by four as yet unidentified bogies.

MacKenzy picked up the phone and dialed John Carter.

John Carter picked up the phone at his residence and took another sip from a glass of sherry.

“Rob, what can I do for you this time of night?”

“John, we’ve got a situation.”

Carter nearly dropped his sherry at that remark.

“What?”

“A flight of Harries was jumped by as yet unknown fighters. We have no status on the pilots, but all four were brought down.”

“Ok, Rob. Order all forces on duty to go to Defense Condition 2 for tonight, and we’ll attempt to sort this out in the morning. Also, have all nuclear missile submarines that are in port to sail within the next 24 hours and to disappear, as quickly as possible. As soon as you can, send a report with all the information that you have on this to Samantha Russell.”
“Very well.”

At that, Carter hung up the phone and dialed the number for Samantha Russell, the ruthless woman in charge of P3X1299s’ Directorate of Foreign Intelligence.

John Carter waited as the phone rang on Russell’s end. He cursed as he heard her voice mail answer the phone.

“Russell, this is Carter. I’m having MacKenzy send you a packet of information about an incident. Find out who did it and why.”

Carter slammed down the phone in anger, and took a big swallow of sherry.

He wrote an order on a piece of paper an handed it to the soldier of the 1st Premier’s Vanguard.

“Take this the commander of the 4th Company,” Carter ordered

The soldier saluted and hurried out of the room.

The captain in command of the 4th Company of the 1st Premier’s Vanguard read the piece of paper, and ordered his men to head for the first of the list of three bars that John Carter had written on the piece of paper. His orders were clear, but strange. Arrest Russell on outstanding parking warrants, and bring her to Carter’s office. He shrugged as they marched out.

ooc> I would like to be the neutral country who act as judge in this matter.

Avatar Belaith watched the images before her relayed from an orbiting satelight.
This is intreging, she thought, however we cannot allow a full blown conflict to emerge from this incident.
She snapped her fingers and a guard dressed in green appeared beside her.
In a voice similar to the overmind in Starcraft she turned to the guard and utterd:
"I want every peice of those plane's you can and can't get your hands on."
She indicated the wrekages displayed on the monitors.
"Do i make myself clear?"

The guard bowed deeply as he walked backwards out of the chamber. Once he was gone the avatar snarled and picked up a whip - turning to the Furrie she had captive and tied to a wall she resumed lashing it flaying the fur from its hide whilst contemplating the repercusions of the events that had just unfurled.

Bump, for the others.

It had taken less than 38 hours to get a full defensive mobilization preparred. All squadrons near the coast where the incident had taken place were now activated. Fighter patrols watched the skies for a single bogey, waiting to power through and hunt down anyone. Several of the Virginia VII class attack subs were sitting just off the coast, silent and deep, waiting for any ship to break the 15 mile limit.

However, one unit, the 385th, was not on the ready line. In fact, they weren't even at any of the airbasses on alert. Lt. Howards, the pilot who fired the first shot, was being held in a military prison, and the others were on house arrest. Capt. Chaffin looked out the window from her appartment at the four black BMW 545is, all governemnt agents. She could tell from the license plates that three were from the Imitoran Federal Crime Investigation Beauru, and one was from the Imitoran Centeral Intelligence Agency.

She picked up a phone to call Mongoose, but as she put it to her ear, she heard three tell tale clicks. She was being bugged, and they had conviscated her cell phone. Damint she swore to herself. She, and the other four, had made a pact to tell teh same story, that the enemy fighters had fired first, but she knew the RADAR and combat reports woudl tell differently. She sighed.
____

First Speaker Anna Fratelli looked at the reports. "Merry Christmas, we blew stuff up," she mumbled to herself. As of yet, there was no report on who her fighters had shot down. A foriegn Marine unit had been operating near by on exercise, but that couldn't have been it. They had been sent warnings on where they could and could not fly, and had confirmed. She sighed.

"Do we know who did it?" she asked Adm. Thomas Dodge, her military advisor. He shrugged. "I mean on our side."

"Oh. 385th. First shot was fired by a Lt. Craig Howard. Capt. Christin Chaffin, teh squadron commander, took out the other two, and a Lt. Chris Burns took out the fourth. They continue to claim the bogeys fired first, but RADAR is showing differently. One of the bogeys peeled off, and Howard fired."

Fratelli nodded. "Very well. I want you to find out who these other fighters were. When we find out, say it was an accident, but deny it being our fault. I want to keep this under wraps until we can talk to these guys."

Dodge nodded. "We have the three pilots under house arrest, with the fourth in the brig. I'll question them myself. Also, I issue a query to these," he looked at a report of all military actions in the area, " Marines from P3X1299. They have a unit not to far out, running exercises."

Fratelli looked out the window. Just off the coast, a quartet of F/A-68D Archangels banking out over the Imitoran Sea, which emptied into the Pacific Ocean. "Good idea. COntact me when you figure this stuff out."

Dodge slid out of the room under the gaurd of four ISS body gaurds. The details had been steped up after the incident.

Near the Imtorian Sea, Pacific Ocean
After the first report of the attack on his Harriers, the commodore in charge of the MEU had immediately turned tail and run, while dispatching a pair of search and rescue helicopters to search for survivors. He hated the thought of leaving those pilots to die on the ocean, but he had the thousands of other people on his ships to worry about. His unit had been on routine exercise, and so had packed less than half of the normal complement of live ammunition for any of the shipboard weapons systems. They also had no missiles for the two remaining Harriers. Given his options and the fact that P3X1299 would need his ships more than the pilots, he had no choice but to turn and run...for P3X1299 at top speed.

Thaler City, P3X1299
Samantha Russell, the head spook in P3X1299, read the report again. When the troopers of the 1st Premier’s Vanguard had showed up, and given the code phrase for an extremely tense situation, she had not hesitated. She ran a hand through her blond hair, and took another look at the report from the marine unit.

Across the Situation Room from Russell, John Carter sat behind his desk, and placed yet another phone call to Jack O’Malley, the Secretary of State. So far, no one had been able to locate him. Carter needed Jack, because he at least had some idea of how to defuse an international crisis. After all, that was why Carter had appointed him.

The phone on Carter’s desk rang. Carter picked it up.

“Hey John, it’s Rob. I’ve got a pair Kirov missile cruisers about 30 hours sailing from that MEU. If we could dispatch them, at least the MEU would have some escort. Authorize them to return fire only if fired on.”

“Rob, do it. We’ve gotta get that unit back here, so we can find out what the hell kind of thing we’ve got going on here. Make sure that they keep radio silence and tell them not to acknowledge the orders.”

“I’ll get right on it then. Also, we should order any Motor Torpedo Boat squadrons with personnel, to patrol their assigned sectors. Hopefully, they will be enough to give us some warning if someone does attack us.”

“Rob, do that as soon as you can.”

John Carter took a swallow of his coffee and looked at Russell.

Russell looked back at him.

“I’m sorry John. I don’t have any answers. Some of our aircraft were destroyed and I cannot tell you why. I know, I’m supposed to know that, but I’m just as in the dark as you are. I’ll know more if I can talk to that commodore. Since he apparently has decided to maintain radio silence, after his initial transmission, I can’t ask him any questions.”

Carter took another hefty swallow of his sherry, and noticed that the bottle was empty and that he was beginning to feel a little lightheaded.

“Russell, I’m going to get some sleep. Find out what’s going on. Wake me up when you do.”

Carter was feeling the effects of the sherry and he stretched out on a convenient couch in the room. Within two minutes, Russell could hear him snoring. She sighed. I hate this just as much as you do.

Military Headquarters, Thaler City, P3X1299

Robert MacKenzy stared at the map indicating the readiness of P3X1299’s naval units. So far, he was not impressed. Most of it was probably because of the fact that it was the Christmas season, but still, it never hurt to try to improve. All but one of his carrier units was in port, at the one that was not in port had just sailed for the MEU. It would be at least five days before they could make the rendezvous.

Northampton, Imitora

"So, admiral, what do you have for me?" It had been 3 days since the incident, and Dodge had, by now, interviewd and probed enough to get a decent amount of information. He stood in Fratelli's office in front of her desk, and she stood off to the side.

"Well, we have all but confirmed it to be a flight of fighters from P3X1299. Strayed a bit to far off course, and was on an off signal, probably for exercise purposes. They couldn't respond to our hails becuase they were on a different channel, and with so many channels being used, the didn't scan them all. One of the fighters moved, and Howards freaked and fired. Simple wrong place wrong time."

"Have we been in contact with them yet?"

"Nope. We haven't been able to contact them. We've picked through what little wreckage we've been able to grab, looks like Harriers. It would take a hell of a pilot in a AV-8B to mess with a Yellow Jacket. I feel bad for the poor guys. Any ideas on how to deal with this?"

Fratelli shook her head. "Appologize?"

"We got a better one down at the Yards." He was refering to the Naval Command Yards. It was ironic that the Yards was really a set of office buildings outside of downtown Northampton, about a half hour from water. "Make it there fault."

Fratelli turned. "Hold that thought."

It was less than an hour later when Sandy Cohen walked through the doors to the First Speakers office. He wore a suit, and brushed a hand through his dark blak hair. "What can I do for ya Anna."

Anna nodded over to Dodge. Sandy turned and looked at him. "Obviously you know of our recent incident regarding four fighters off the coast of Newport. Our idea down at the Yards is to make it their fault not ours." Dodge looked back at Sandy, who was frowning at this idea. "We have already decided to court martial the pilot who fired the first shot, and reprimand the others. However, we dont tell this to them."

Sandy shook his head. I dunno, that doesn't seem like a good idea."

"Sure it is. They moved offensively to our fighters, who fired in defense. Its not like they are gonna call for an international trial or see our records."

Sandy again shook his head. "I dont like it. Not one bit."

Anna looked back. "I dunno sandy. I think its a good idea. Make it thier fault, not ours. Keeps us safe from persecution."

Sandy shrugged. "I wouldn't do it, but thats not why you hired me. Get the press ready, I'll make the anouncement in an hour."

"Thanks," Anna said.

Sandy shrugged again. "Yeah, thats fine."

Somewhere in the South Pacific Ocean

Aboard the ships of the MEU, the sailors were readying a Harrier to take off. Aboard that Harrier were copies of the tapes of what had appeared on the radar displays of all the MEU ships at the time of the disappearance of the Harriers as well as copies of recordings of all the electronic emissions that the radar sets on all three of the ships had received. The Harrier lifted off, and headed for the carrier group sailing from Thaler City. From there, the package would be transferred to a Hornet,

Several Hours Later
Military Headquarters: Thaler City, P3X1299

Samantha Russell looked at John Carter and the P3X1299’s Military Command Authority, who were sitting before her at a table. Russell began to narrate:

“Gentlemen, if you’ll observe this tape. This is one of the radar sets that the MEU had turned on at the time of the incident.”

Carter sighed. Everyone was calling it an incident now. They still had no word from the commodore about the debris from the planes, but it seemed likely that they may have been shot down.

Russell cleared her throat interrupting Carter’s train of thought.

“As you can see on this tape, the radar on one of the commodore’s other ships picked up a faint blip right before one the blip of the transponder signal from the first Harrier was lost. This blip only appeared for three sweeps, and only on this on ship’s radar. We are running the actual signal input from the radar through a program to clean it up right now. The process will take several hours, and I will apprise you as soon as it has been completed.”

Carter looked at Russell briefly, before asking his question.

“What about the positions of the ships and of our aircraft?”

“Well, John, if the position indicators on our ships were accurate, and the range reading on all three ships’ radars on the planes was accurate, then they were over international waters. If I had to guess, sir, I’d say that our planes found something that they were not supposed to. It could have been an invasion group heading for,” Russell paused to check a map, “Imitoria.”

Carter looked at Russell.

“We don’t even have all the facts yet, and you’re grasping at straws?”

Russell grimaced rather sickly.

“Well, John, it’s my job to guess.”

GNC (Global NewsCorp) - Imitora Regional Branch Office

Harris was asleep at his desk, not an uncommon sight around the office. As a prized hound needed a well-earned rest, Harris was taking whatever time he had in between and making full use of it, nodding off as long as possible until the next call, which came all too soon..

"What the f..."

Muttering a string of incomprehensible explecitives, Harris instinctively picks up the receiver to the ringing phone on his desk.

"Good evening Mr Harris, how are things going down south?"

Harris was not in the mood, especially when he had been roused mid-slumber by an abrupt phone call and he had no hestitation in venting his annoyance.

"Jesus christ, goddamnit! What is it now?"

He needed an aspirin tablet, badly. In fact, any form of painkiller would do now for the ensuring headache. He grasps for the box of panadols just within his reach and groaned to himself when he found them empty.

"Well my good man, lets just make it worth your while and say I've got a lead on some heat coming down not too far from where you are"

For a moment, he had managed to recover at least most of his senses and seemed more awake as he replied.

"That sounds fairly interesting. Keep going..."

Harris had gone from groggy to annoyed and now he was interested, perhaps a bit eager in the space of less than 5 minutes. The hound was now fully aware.

"Apparently there has been an incident, somewhere on the South Pacific according to the word so far. It seems that the Imitora military brass are actually bothering to send a mouthpiece over to perhaps enlighten the world and anybody else who gives a hoot about the situation."

He nodded to himself, perhaps out of habit.

"Uh huh.. I'm guessing Sandy Cohen"

Soon the Harris of old was back, alert and from the fidgeting and the expression on his face, he was ready to get back on the prowl.

"I've got my money on him as well. You've got to give it to him, he's pretty damn good at what he does and that goes beyond just being a mouthpiece, having a track record of cleaning up messes or re-directing the heat somewhere else. Anyways, you know the drill, I'm putting you on this on your side.."

Harris snorted and replied without hestitation.

"And just what are you bringing to the table if I may be so bold to ask?"

He reached for his coat, an indication that he was already getting restless and itching for action.

"I'll probably be on the look out for perhaps some more leads and good stuff we can pound on. In between that, I'll be working on something I've got here. Rumor has got it that the good people down in Thaler City are on their toes. Wonder why? Just might have something to do with whatever it was that went down in the South Pacific"

Harris was more than just interested, this could just be something hot brewing in the works and he was not going to left out of the party. GNC's prized hound was going to be on the trail.

"Sounds like something big, regardless what Sandy says on the stump, its no trivial matter.."

And Harris believed it.

"I would very like to stay and chat on but I've got more pressing matters at hand. You'll be good now and do us proud"

With a smirk on his face, Harris replied through the receiver.

"You bet your ass"

Soon, he puts the receiver back down on its cradle and wasted no time in gathering whatever he needed. All that was left would be the crew and they'll be off to Northampton. The possiblities seemed almost endless but for now, they had an announcement to cover and deliver to the world. Whatever happens next, Harris could decide afterwards.

The day had only just begun.

It had been five days since the incident, and the small airial battle, if it could have even been called that, was still under wraps. However, the large group of reporters in the Northampton convention center's medium sized press room was proof that it wouldn't be quiet for long.

The entourage, five black BMW 545i's, pulled up in front of the center, and Sandy Cohen exited the middle car, along with a sizable detail of ISS agents. Thier crimson colored ties on black shirts and suits added an air of seriousness to thier already somber faces, and the bulge of UMAC made P226s only intesified the look.

Sandy walked into the room amidst the flashing bulbs of cammeras, and approached the podium. He took his spot behind it, and tapped the microphone a few times to make sure it was on. The room quieted, and he took a sip of water before speaking.

"Ladies and gentlemen, as some of you may have or have not heard, earlier this week at approxamately 11:15am on December the 25th, four unidentified aircraft entered Imitoran airspace. As a precautionary measure, four alert level five aircraft of the Three Hundred and Eighty Fifth Air Combat Squadron were launched in interception. After hailing the unidentified aircraft, and recieving no response, the four aircraft, all being F/A-18Is, moved to physicaly force the unknown aircraft to turn away from their intercept path. One of the aircraft made a move that one of the pilots considered aggresive, and was fired on. At 11:30am, the first of the four enemy aircraft was downed. By 11:32, all four had been downed, and the 385th ordered to return back to base."

He paused to let this sink in, as well as to quiet down the reporters who tried to ask questions a tad early. When the were silent, he again spoke. "As of now, our best guess is that the fighters, all identified as AV-8B Harriers, were from a P3X1299 MEU that had been a good distance off the Imitoran coast. While our current analysis of the situation shows that they may or may not have had a hostile intent, the fighters were in Imitoran airspace, and not responding to hails. Therefore, it was in our right to open fire in defense of our airspace. I will now take questions."

The hands shot up, but Sandy had already picked on who got to ask questions this time.

"Uhh, Liza, go ahead."

Liza Davenport of the Imitora Bay Area Chronicle stood, and spoke quikly. "Sandy, does this action have anything to do with the sudden decison at teh Yard to retire the F/A-18Is, and have we yet contacted the higher ups in P3X1299?"

Sandy chuckled. He was good with the press, and knew all of them on a first name basis. "Liza, please. Your not gonna get another pulitzer asking questions like that first one." The group, along with Liza, laughed. "But no, it doesn't. However, on your second question, no, we haven't contacted them yet." The hands went up again. "James."

James Standly rose. He worked with the local Fox News branch, and often flaunted his prefered status over the CNN and MSNBC crowd. "Sandy, if this was a hostile act on the part of P3X1299, can we expect a military response, or are we just gonna wait for them to make another move?"

Sandy nodded. "Good question. I wish I could answer that for you, but I can't. You'll need to contact Adm. Dodge for that." Again the hands went up. "Harris..."

OOC: One-If anyone can guess where Sandy Cohen comes from, they get a cookie. Two-Marioner, if you have questions about Imitora culture, lifestyle, whatever, just tgram me.

Somewhere in the South Pacific Ocean
The group of transports had finally managed to reach the carrier group, and P3X1299’s government, at least those people that knew what was happening had breathed a sigh of relief.

Thaler City, P3X1299

Samantha Russell stared at the display. There could be no mistaking this one. This readout was clear and unambiguous. After her techs had finished with it, there could be no mistake. She picked up the phone and dialed John Carter’s office.

In his office, Carter heard the phone ringing and picked it up.

“John, this is Samantha. We’ve got something serious here.”

“Samantha, what have you got? Don’t just tell me you’ve got something serious. Tell me what that serious something is.”

John Carter rubbed his forehead and instantly regretted his harsh words.

“Listen Samantha, I’m sorry I snapped at you. I’ve just got this whole war kind of thing hanging over my head and it’s making me a little bit nervous.”

“John, my crew over here just got finished cleaning up the received signals from those ships. Some type of unknown plane definitely jumped Harriers.”

“Ok, that’s rather serious. I’d better call Rob and let him know.”

Carter hung up his phone and dialed the Secretary of Defense.

“Hello, this is Rob.”

“Rob, this is John. We’ve got a problem.”

Robert MacKenzy took a look at a clock.

“Well, John I didn’t think that you were on the phone this late to tell me to pay my long distance.”

“Rob, we may have a shooting war on our hands, and so far, we’re on the short end. Order some of our submarines out to patrol north of us and keep the fleet at Defense Condition 2.”

“I’ll do that, John.”

John hung up the phone and rubbed his face with his hands. He looked at the half-empty bottle of scotch on his desk, got up and poured himself a drink.

I've been watching this closely from the begining and it's very interesting. Is Cohen based on C.J. from West Wing? They seem somewhat similar.

OOC: Thanks, feel free to join in if you want. And nope. Wrong channel. But close.

OOC: P3X1299...just so you know, this news confrence is being broadcasted internationally, so you would be able to see it.

OOC: *smacks forehead* The dudes have to catch up on that in my next post.

Thaler City, P3X1299

Samantha Russell had just finished watching a recording of a news broadcast that one of her operatives had red flagged and forwarded to her. Apparently, Imitoria was trying to blame our forces for their attack on P3X1299 aircraft over international waters. She rolled her eyes and dialed John Carter on the phone.

“Hello, this is John.”

“John, listen, I’ve got some real bad news.”

“Don’t worry about me shooting the messenger.”

“Well, boss, it seems the Immies...?

“Immies?”

“Sorry, John, the Imitorians. Anyway, they’re blaming the whole thing on us.”

“What? Those planes were unarmed over international waters! Merde!”

“Who are the Imitorians?”

“John, they’re the people that just took credit for shooting down our planes. One of my people caught a broadcast and forwarded it to me. Flagged red.”

“Merde,” Carter swore again.

“John, we could just try to let this blow over, because as far as I know, no one here has figured out that we’ve even lost four planes yet. They’re always waiting for the next thing that fool Callahan is gonna do.”

Carter nodded his head. “Samantha, I’m going to keep our forces on alert, but lets try and let this thing blow over.”

“John, that might work.”

Carter sighed and hung up the phone. This just kept getting worse and worse.

Frateli watched the confrence live from her office. It reminded her why she had hired Cohen. He was good, better than she was, and they both knew it. She looked at her desk, where a written and signed notice to P3X1299 was waiting to be sent. She sighed. Dodge had advised her not to send it, but she felt like she had the obligation to do so.

She looked out the window of her office, over Northampton bay, which emptied into the Pacific. She noted the irony of the situation. It was called the Pacific because it was a more peacefull ocean. Peacfull, yet some of the most violent battles had been fought in the Pacific. World War II for one. Or the many naval battles fought by the Imitorans. And this most recent encounter. She watched as three firgates powered out to the location of the shootings. Trying to pick up more debris, and hopefully, find at least a body.

She sighed, and scanned the letter into her computer. A few clicks, and it was off, over diplomatic channels, to P3X1299. After the 'sent' icon appeaerd, she closed the computer, and walked back to the window. The entire thing, after the confrence, would be covered up. Even if a enemy surface combatant showed up on the front door of Northampton, they would be told it was just an exercise. She shook her head, and left the office. She needed to get out, walk around a bit, feel a little less stressed.

She shreaded the physical copy of the letter, and hoped that whoever was in charge would get it.

To Whom it May Concern:

Recently, four fighters of the Imitoran Naval Airforce came into contact with four aircraft, confirmed as AV-8B Harriers, and shot all four down. As of now, you obviously know of this, and are wondering why it happened. I would like to ask you the same question. The Harriers were operating in Imitoran waters, and did not respond to any of our hailing calls. At this time, we can only assume that it was a reconnosiance or scout unit, probing frontal defences. I would hope that the aircraft posed no such threat, and that any such concern is unfounded. I look forward to your reply

[sighned]
First Speaker Anna Sophia Frateli

P3X1299 Foreign Office: Thaler City, P3X1299

Jack O’Malley studied the telegram that had just arrived from some place called Imitoria. He scratched his head and read the message. Jack looked at the message, and forwarded it as an e-mail to John Carter. Carter would know what to do. Just to be sure, O’Malley flagged it important.

The Government Complex: Thaler City, P3X1299

John Carter looked at the flagged important message that had just come in from the Foreign Office. He cursed as he read it. Imitoria was accusing his country of having violated their territorial waters. Carter composed himself and thought for a second: O’Malley had been kept out of the loop so far, so he would make a good dupe.

Carter picked up the phone and dialed O’Malley’s office.

“Hello. This is Jack O’Malley.”

“Jack, this is John. You know that diplomatic communication that we have just received?”

“Yea, John, I sent it to you.”

“Well, as far as I know, we don’t have any units operating in that area that are equipped with Harriers. You’re somewhat diplomatic, so you should be the one that writes that telegram.”

“Right, John. I’ll get on it.”

“Ok, Jack. Do that.”

Carter hung up his phone and turned back to his desk, and a newspaper.


To: First Speaker Anna Sophia Frateli
From: P3X1299 Foreign Office

We know of none of our strike groups in or near your national waters. Furthermore, there are mercenary units which chosen to be headquartered in P3X1299. Some of them are equipped with AV-8B Harriers, and could have been painted with markings similar to those of our Marine Expeditionary Units. Our Air Force AV-8B Harriers lack the range to fly over your national waters. We are currently inquiring as to the status of all of the mercenary units within our borders and ensuring that our Marine Expeditionary Units have remained in port.

Sincerely,
Jonathan O’Malley
P3X1299 Secretary of State


OOC: O'Malley is such a dupe. :p

OOC: Sorry for not posting, been busy last few days getting back to school.
IC:

Anna looked at the letter. Dodge was still mad she had sent a comunique, but it was a bit late to care about that, and he too looked at it. He shook his head. "Fine then, we'll fly a satalite over, take pictures of everything that may even look like a mercenary ecampent, and orty them. Or try the new KMAV we just sent up. Or crusie missile the hell out of them."

Anna shook her head. "We can't do that. We need to be a bit more diplomatic in our actions." She grabbed a reply she had typed up and sent it off. "Get a few of the new Virginia VIIs, and get them ready to roll. You were a sub commander, so if you want to go with them, feel free."

Dodge nodded, and when she handed him a copy of the letter, he read it. He nodded, and gave it back so she could shread it. He looked out the window, and then turned back to her. "I'll get the Adm. Waitkus II. I'll also take the Ormsby III, RAdm. Davids is a good captain, and I trust him. And the Powell. Where do you want us to go, and when do we leave?"

"I'll tell you soon enough."

By now, the 'letter' had arrived in P3X1299.


Secratery O'Malley

I understand the precarious situation this must place you in. However, I assume that you will appriciate the fact that I must do what it takes to defend my nation at all costs. Becuase of this, I am unfortunately forced to present to you two options. The first is to give to us the locations of all known mercenary groups in your nation so that we may find out which one may be attemtpting to launch an attack against us, and we can respond in a justifiable mannor. The other is for you to ignore this request, and in that case, we will be forced to consider you a terrorist harboring nation, and we will respond in the same mannor as we would to teh mercenary group. On a larger scale. I'm sure you can see the reasoning behind this. Respectfully,

[signed]
First Speaker Anna Sophia Frateli

Government Complex: Thaler City, P3X1299

Jack O’Malley looked at the letter that had just come in from Imitoria. The Diplomatic office had forwarded it to him. Apparently, someone in Imitoria was rather unhappy. He dialed John Carter.

In his office, John Carter picked up the phone.

“Hello.”

“John, this is Jack. We’ve got a problem. Someone in Imitoria is unhappy with something that we did. I’ll e-mail you the message.”

“Jack, I don’t know what we did. As far as I know, we haven’t actually done anything.”

Carter hung up the phone and looked at MacKenzy.

“Mac, we’ve got to do something.”

“Well, John, we’ve got some new ASROC missiles that I’d like to try out. Perhaps we could have a little military exercise with seventy of our Seawolf submarines. I’m really itching to see the what they can do. We could have a live test of some of our nuclear weapons. See to it that all merchant vessels operating within our national waters are notified and ordered to stay in the Thaler City Shipping Corridor or risk being blown out of the water.”

Samantha Russell had been waiting for an opening to chime in. She had been watching the conversation between Carter and MacKenzy with avid interest.

“John, can’t show them weakness. I suppose that we could invite them a random delegation to show up somewhere and look for some mercenary units.”

John shrugged and looked at Russell.

“What have we got to lose by making the offer? And Mac, do it with those subs.”

Carter picked up the phone, and called O’Malley.

“Hello. This is Jack.”

“Jack, this is John. Can you draft a telegram to Imitoria indicating that we are willing to allow them to send people to look for the mercenaries and that after perusing all the relevant paperwork, we have been unable to find any indication of any mercenary unit that may have conducted some type of flight over Imitoran airspace. Also, we have found no indications of any military units that have entered Imitoran national waters.”

Carter hung up the phone smiled. At least O’Malley could be counted on to do his job and not ask too many hard questions.

Foreign Office: Thaler City, P3X1299

Jack O’Malley sighed and began to work on a telegram.

To: First Speaker Anna Sophia Frateli
From: P3X1299 Foreign Office

We have checked all of our relevant paperwork with regards to mercenaries that operate within P3X1299. Also, in consulting with the Intelligence Directorate and the Secretary of Defense, both have assured me that P3X1299 had no military presences in your territorial waters. We have interrogated the commodore in charge of the Marine Expeditionary Unit, that was operating near your waters and thoroughly examined all of the RADAR and GPS records of that unit. We have found nothing to indicate that they were operating in your territorial waters. If you wish to send a delegation to our country to interview the commanders of the any mercenary units that you can find, we will make no move to stop you. As far as we're concerned, they do not even have to admit that they are a government delegation.

Sincerely,
Jonathan O’Malley
P3X1299 Secretary of State


OOC: I totally understand that school thing. I recently started back up myself.

OOC: Post comming soon, I just typed up a good one...and the forums ate it.

OOC: That's why I type these long posts in a word processing program like MS Word. ;)

OOC: Yeah
IC:

Frateli looked the comunique over. Well, if they want us to send someone, we can. She picked up the phone, and began to dial the number for the Imitoran Department of Special Warfare, when a knowck was heard at her door. "Come in."

The door opened, and a younger man stepped through the door. "Madame First Speaker, we have some information that we believe you'd like to see."

She looked the man over. "What group."

"INSA, miss." She looked up again, now paying attention.

"Go ahead."

"Well, looking over the transcripts of the communications between you and this O'Malley character, we've found some intresting problems. Basically, either he's lying, or he's a dupe, and someones feeding him info. We think its the later of the two, becuase in most places you'd be dealing with the up tops on this, not just a SecState."

Fratlei nodded, and the man continued. "Basically, hes claiming that they have no knowledge of any of their forces being in the area at the time. However, we have these," he said sliding a stack of papers across the table to Frateli. "GPS Transcripts, RADAR and LIRDAR readouts, sonobouys, and satalites."

He took the first piece of the stack, the photos. "These are overflight shots from one of our KMPVs. The pictures are of the ship that had been conducting exercises outside our waters. The last few photos, you'll notice, show a flight of four aircraft, IDed as Harriers. The last three show them having crossed a line into our territorial waters."

"Next," he said, "we have the GPS transcripts. These are our best bets. If you look at them, they show that on the date of the incident, they do have a confirmation of the ship being just a touch outside of territorial waters. However, the more important piece, the ones circled," he pointed to a circled set of numbers, "is those that confirm the location of the four fighters comming in over our waters."

He also explained teh LIRDAR and RADAR read outs, as well as teh sonobouy confirmations. Frateli nodded. "So whats the idea down at the agency?"

"Recon unit. Theyre testing us. And I don't know if we passed or not."

Frateli nodded. "Ok, bring us to Alert 2, and I want a flight of fighters in the air at all times. Also, keep patrol and brown water units at sea. We need to keep are eyes on these guys. I'm gonna authorize satalite overflights. KMAV and KMPVs."

The man nodded, and left, with one last order. Frateli was authorizing the INSA to take this matter up. Another comunique was being sent, but this time from the INSA Director of Operations, Holly Lutz.


To whom it concerns

We have recently discovered several inacuracies in your communications with us, mainly regarding the location of your ships and fighters on December the 25th, 2004. We were informed, by your Secretary of State, that no ships of your military, nor aircraft, were operating near our waters. You will see, in the files attatched, that said ship and aircraft were indeed operation in or near our waters. I was wondering if you could possibly explain why this ship and these aircraft were operating in or near our waters. I believe your response may be the one needed to avert a rather unfortunate situation. With regards,

Holly Lutz
Director of Operations, Imitora National Security Agency

P3X1299 Government Complex: Thaler City, P3X1299

John Carter cursed as he read the message. He knew from the data that had been forwarded to him by MacKenzy and Samantha Russell that those aircraft had been operating over international waters.

He looked at the data that O’Malley had forwarded to him. That data showed that their aircraft were operating just a shade inside Imitoran waters. The question was, how could he reconcile their data with what he had told O’Malley to dupe him again? Carter smiled. Of course, he didn’t have to route this communication through O’Malley. He dialed up Secretary of Defense Robert MacKenzy.

“Hello, this is Rob.”

“Rob, this is John.”

“Rob, did you issue those orders about the training exercises to the submarines?”

“Yes, John, I did. Several subs armed with those new subrocs have been sortied. We are currently provisioning and arming the subs that are still in the harbor, though they will not be launched. Each of the subs that I ordered launched has been assigned a patrol area. and all shipping lanes except for the Thaler City Shipping Corridor have been shut down because of that. As far as we can tell, there are no commercial vessels and none of our naval vessels within those areas. I have assigned a dozen of the U-212 type submarines to patrol the Thaler City Shipping Corridor. They have not been equipped with the new subrocs.”

“Good job, Mac. I’ve got to go. I’ve got a message to write.”


John Carter hung up the phone and turned to his computer. He smiled to himself. Any reporter that tried to interview him about the crisis was liable to get challenged to a duel and with members of his bodyguard around, there was no shortage of witnesses. If only these Imitorians were so easy to take care of. Carter chuckled at that thought.


To: Holly Lutz, Imitora National Security Agency
From: P3X1299 Government Complex

We have been investigating the incident in which several of our aircraft allegedly violated your airspace. I have been attempting to pursue the matter to the fullest of my ability, but as I have other duties involving both my corporation and the office of CEO-Premier, I have been unable to gain as full a picture of the incident as I like. I can however assure you of one fact that is paramount. The unit in question was not carrying any munitions of any type for the AV-8 Harriers that it is equipped with. Thus, those planes that you shot down could not have shot back even if they had desired to. I have no idea why in the hell that those ships were operating near your waters, as you claim, and the Secretary of Defense, who is in charge of such matters, has been out of contact with me for business reasons. I can assure you that once he returns to his duties at the government complex, I will find out from him what the hell he was thinking with those ships.

Also, if the Secretary of State tells you that there were no aircraft operating in or near your waters, you can rest assured that to the best of his knowledge, there were no aircraft or ships operating there.

Yours in profit,
John Carter
P3X1299 CEO-Premier

Holly looked over the message quickly, and responded just as quickly. As teh letter sailed through cyberspace, she looked over the intell reports that she had had agents put together. She grabbed her phone, and dialed Frateli's number. The convorsation was a relay of what she had been told.

"Well, your the HSA, what do you think."

Holly rubbed her forehead. "I say we get redy to move. Put a few of the newer Northampton IIs up in the air. Not hard hitters, but just enough to have a quick response unit in the area in case we need it."

"What about atmospheric?"

"One of our carrier groups. Not a big invasion one, just a carrier, cuppla Virginia VIIs, and maybe a missle cruiser for secondary air defence." She paused. "And put the KMAVs up. A few of them. Two missle ones, and definately the new laser one. Keep these guys on their toes, but don't let them know that we're over them."

"Alright, I'll take your word for it. You gonna send a response to the recent comunique?"

"Yep, typing it up right now, I'll cc you a copy."

"Alright, thanks Holly. I'll wait for a response, then order out one of the smaller units. Thanks."

Holly hung up first, and got back to typing. The response from the CEO-Premier would either make her job very easy, or very hard. She thought of the ironic fact that, had Imitora and P3X1299 met at any other time, they may have been allies. She sighed, and quickly finished her typing.


CEO-Premier Carter

Its good to see the actual leadership of P3X1299 take up communications in this matter. However, as much as it pleases me to see that you have taken an intrest in the current situation, I cannot help but feel strings are being pulled elsewhere. I find it rather unnerving that you, the leadership of your nation (OOC: I think it said in your factbook that hte CEO Premier is the leader, so I'm going off that) does not know what his own military is doing. Regardless of the threat level of the aircraft that had penetrated our airspace, they did not respond to hailing calls. We can therefore only assume that they were involved in an operation that may have prooved threatening to Imitora.

Know then, I can only think that you can appricate our concern. Either you are lying, and knew very well what your ship and aircraft were doing in or near Imitoran teritorial space, or you have lost control of your own military. Neither of these options are, in the opinion of the Imitoran leadership, feasible excuses. Now that you are involved in talks, I hope that a peacefull resolution can come about, else wise, I fear to say that deaths of many people may be on your shoulders. Regards,

Holly Lutz
Director of Operations, Imitora National Security Agency

Government Complex: Thaler City, P3X1299
Carter studied the new letter that he had just received in his e-mail. He decided that it was time to call MacKenzy again as he was looking over an inventory of the nuclear weapons of the military. Carter wanted more muscle in the air. He picked up the handset of his phone and dialed MacKenzy’s office.

“Hello, this is Rob.”

“Rob, this is John. How quickly can you have some B-52s in the air, preferably equipped with some nuclear tipped ALCMs?”

“John, you’re kidding right?”

“No, Rob, I’m not kidding. I just got another message from the Immies. They seem pissed.”

“John. What did we do?”

“They think that we did something. While your at it, put some Black Widows around the B-52s. I want all of the aircraft that I have just ordered you to launch airborne over the interior.”

“I’ll get right on it, John.”

“Rob, while I’ve got your attention, why was that military group operating near Imitoria?”

“John, it was a training mission.”

“Ok, Rob. I’ve got to write a letter, now.”

Carter hung up the phone and turned to his computer and sighed at the prospect or writing another letter to some spy in a foreign country. That was why he had O’Malley as the secretary of state.

To: Holly Lutz, Imitora National Security Agency
From: P3X1299 Government Complex

So, it is good to talk to the so called actual leadership of P3X1299? Well, I’ve got news for you. Here, we have this concept called delegation, and while you were corresponding with the Secretary of State, you were talking to the leadership of P3X1299. I’m not really a big fan of people that insult my subordinates. As for your allegation that I don’t know what the military forces of P3X1299 are doing, that is why I have a Secretary of Defense. See, it’s his job to know what the military is doing and to inform me if he plans to start any wars or anything like that. It was rather hard to reach him because he was enjoying a vacation on one of our pristine and commercialized southern beaches.
I had to interrupt his vacation, but within a few minutes he had the data that I required and I knew what that unit was doing near your waters. If they did not respond to your hailing calls, it’s because they were following P3X1299 training procedure and operating on a non-standard frequency selected at random from a certain range for the purposes of that exercise. Having served in the military of P3X1299, I understand the training procedures. Also for the record, I have not lost control of the military.

With Profit,
John Carter
P3X1299 CEO-Premier


OOC: Yep, the CEO-Premier is the leader of P3X1299, and my factbook does say that! :)